Somnium
by LaMarwy
Summary: "Kiss me." The puppet murmured, so she did. [What if? S02E10, OneShot]


Warnings (spoiler!): Character death, underage - murder, and suicide.

A/N: unbetaed; the story has been translated in italian on efp.

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Title: SOMNIUM  
Fandom: Penny Dreadful  
Set: S02E10

Word count: 2.690, one-shot  
Rating: T (not sex-related)  
Genre: Introspective, dark.

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 **SOMNIUM**

 _"Kiss me." the puppet murmured, so she did. [What if? S02E09]_

Vanessa had tasted the life that could've been. Her tongue still tingled from the kiss, her nose still kept the scent of his cologne and the delicate smell of lavender coming from her children clothes. Her ears already missed their joyful little voices.

"You're very cruel." She said firmly, but her voice betrayed her, cracking at the end.

"On the contrary, I am kind." The puppet replied. "Think about it, Vanessa: no more suffering, no more agony."

"At what price?" She raised her voice, her eyes burning with rage. "My soul is my own!"

"Your soul is already mine." It continued, with the same flat voice that was her own.

"I have to give it willingly." Vanessa said, though her faith was faltering. Where did the truth really lay?

"You gave me your soul willingly when you first killed that man in the moors." It whispered as it was a secret. "When that man's blood fell on your hand, you became mine."

"You're lying." She said, backing a little from the puppet.

"Am I?" It asked. "End it now, my beloved. Think about the life you could have."

"You're lying." She repeated, but she was already considering it, and it knew.

"Kiss me." The puppet murmured with a seductive voice. "Do it and your sorrows will be over. Kiss me." it said, so she did.

Vanessa held on to the closest thing to her, so her fingers grabbed the wooden chair with intent. Her head spun terribly and her bare feet hardly stayed still on the ground, as it was moving beneath her.

Did it work?

Was she safe, now?

Was she there, in that bloodless and peaceful reality that had been shown to her?

Vanessa took a deep breath when she realized she had taken control over her body and let her dilated eyes wondering around the room: she recognized the place, though the wallpaper was different and the furniture too, that was her own room at Sir. Malcolm's residence.

She turned herself to the dressing table, to which it belonged the chair she was clinging to, and through the mirror, she took a good look of her own reflection.

She had no longer her eyes circled in black, her raven hair, though loose, were waved and shiny; her complexion, still keeping its fairness, was much healthier than she remembered.

Vanessa straightened her back, sighing in discontent when she noticed the thin, white chemise that wrapped her thin body like a second skin, leaving her shoulders bare. She always thought white wasn't her color, perhaps she had to reconsider that.

Everything seemed peaceful, safer, yet she remained the same. That feeling of emptiness wasn't gone but changed: she now feared the unknown, the things of her new life waiting to be discovered by her.

"Vanessa." She abruptly turned her head toward the voice she'd heard. It seemed Ethan, from the other room. She didn't dare to answer. "Vanessa, the kid's whining."

She felt a shiver crawling down her spine, almost as if the blood had been drained from her body.

Vanessa followed that unfamiliar noise until she noticed the white cradle next to the bed.

It wasn't like her vision, then. Ethan was there, but the children were younger – babies, even; maybe they weren't even two, at the moment, but just one. Better, she thought, to see them grow. But was it the girl or the boy?

Vanessa walked dimly to the cradle, heart hammering in her chest.

That was her child and yet it was not. She didn't birth it or carried it inside her for months. Could she be able to love it?

She was afraid that her heart would've been closed. It had been natural, however, in her vision, to cuddle that girl, so maybe it would've come as easy with that baby as well.

As she stepped closer, she could see the silky blanket wrapped around the tiniest body she'd ever seen, then a stuffed toy-wolf, then the thin raven hair on the back of the baby's head. It had its eyes shut, its rosy lips wide open, screaming with such ire that her skin was reddish on its cheek.

It had the most beautiful face, though. Even deformed by its cry, that small creature had made something click inside her chest.

Vanessa wasn't capable of love, or so she thought. She'd never been afraid in her life, not when demons scratched from her insides to get out, not when voices whispered in the dark, not ever. Not until now. Yet that baby didn't feel entirely hers.

"Vanessa." Ethan called again, but this time, he was closer. He entered the room, in fact, his fingers busy tying his cravat. "Are you planning to let the girl cry all night?"

 _Ah, a girl_. She unwillingly smiled at the thought of having a girl: she always wanted a daughter.

Despite his words, Ethan was smiling too, almost amused at her current clumsiness around the baby.

She stepped as close as she could, staring down at the baby, studying that little creature as if it was a fish in the tank. The baby's crying was dim, similar to a bee's buzzing, hard to hear for her for her ears weren't used to such a light sound.

"She has weak lungs." Vanessa commented, distant. She realized she didn't have any emotion in her voice, nor for that creature. Something was off, but was it her? Maybe she just needed to accept the idea. In her vision, everything had been much easier.

"Give her time." Ethan said, walking toward them and placing his hand on her shoulders, from behind. Vanessa was able to feel his warm breath on her neck. "Scoop her up, she always quietens." He suggested, leaving her there.

Vanessa peeked from her shoulder to saw him grabbing his shirt and jacket, wearing them in front of the mirror.

It all seemed so normal and Ethan seemed so calm, so content with his life. Maybe she could be happy too.

Vanessa bent down on the crib, moving the soft blanket from her baby's body to pick the infant up. She wasn't used to such a dim weight, nor to the softness of her tender limbs, hanging from her little bust; she wasn't ready at all – she realized – that she almost dropped her baby.

That one second of terror forced her to hold on tight to that creature, squeezing her soft body firmly to her chest. It came naturally to support the child's head with her hand, that covered her fragile skull completely, as her other hand kept her close to her breasts, her fingers touching the silky skin of her tiny back.

Vanessa smiled when she realized that the girl had stopped crying by only curling up on her chest.

She wanted to be the blanket, she wanted to feel the baby's light breath on her neck and the warmth of her body against hers. But that didn't happen.

The girl's skin was as cold as stone. She was soft but incredibly cold. It was like she was made of clay.

Again, she felt a rush of fright filling her head.

"She's cold." Vanessa murmured, worried. She spun on her heels, facing Ethan as she unconsciously lulled the baby.

Maybe she was sick, maybe that was the reason why her lungs were so weak.

Was it about her deal? She'd given her soul for that damaged reality? Maybe shee just needed to ask to spare her girl to the Master? Was that it? Asking favours for all her life?

"What'd you expect?" Ethan asked. He was the portrait of peacefulness. Vanessa looked at him thought the mirror; her eyes were unquiet, unlike his. "She was a puppet after all."

She felt a sharp pain spreading inside her being, from her core to the tip of her fingers. That creature that was holding against her, her daughter, wasn't even fully human? Suddenly, flashes of thousand of dolls appeared in front of her eyes, staring down at her, laughing. She had become like Evelyn.

No, she couldn't believe it.

"What do you mean?" Her voice was hoarse, uneven.

Ethan froze for a moment, then let out a peel of laughter, facing her with a shadow of guilt in his eyes.  
"Yes- of course. I'm sorry." He said with a smile. "Forgive me, I promised we'd never speak of it again." Ethan closed the distance between them and kissed her without hesitation.

Vanessa couldn't bring her own lips to move, so she didn't respond to the kiss; she just stared at him as he moved to the baby in her arms, pecking softly the back of her hand, which still wrapped the girl's head.

"Ethan." She called, her face was serious. "Talk to me." She demanded.

He sighed, squeezing her shoulders in his warm hands.  
"Vanessa, I've told you before: I do not hold against you because you're barren, I promise." He whispered. Another shiver, another pain. That reality was far worse than she'd expected. "Besides, having her was the closest thing to conceive; her birth was beautiful."

Vanessa stared for a long time in his eyes. He seemed so sincere, so happy and oh, so handsome. Could she live with that too? Could she be happy and content with that life? Having everything she desired, even the impossible?

"Was it?" She forced herself to ask. She needed to know more.

"Our Master is kind." Ethan nodded. "Your powers are great, I- I never told you but it was fascinating." She continued staring, hoping this was enough for him to pursue with his telling. "Are you sure you want to talk about that?"

"Just this once." She said.

"Our daughter is not less real to me than any other child, nor she's less my daughter, you know that." He murmured, looking straight into her eyes. She nodded. "It was glorious the way she came into this world. You gave life to a dummy by just naming it." He was smiling from ear to ear. "But I don't care how she came, as long as we have our beautiful Claire."

 _Claire_ , like her own mother. When Ethan embraced them, she closed her eyes, bathing in his scent and warmth. Her words and voice spinning inside her head as she spoke to Peter, long ago _"You have to give them names, or they'll never come to life."_ Suddenly, she realized she wasn't _like_ Evelyn. She _was_ Evelyn.

Could she actually be content in that world where nothing was real and that deception was the true source of happiness? Could she live in a world where she was the darkness? Maybe, as long as she stayed true to herself and Ethan – her Ethan, her savior.

"You should go to bed and take her with you, now." He sighed, detaching from them with a frown. "The full moon's tonight."

Vanessa nodded. She knew his secret, or better, she thought she knew, even if not entirely. She was happy that, in this reality, they could talk about it openly. Maybe they had found a way to fight his inner beast too.

She took a deep breath, bowing her head over Claire's.  
She smelled good, and she felt good, even if her skin was icy-cold. Yes, maybe she could be happy.

When she looked up at Ethan though, she noticed he'd worn his bowler hat.

"Where are you going?" She asked, her brow wrinkling.

"Out." He simply said.

"You'll kill someone." She continued.

He smirked.  
"That's rather the point, my beloved." He straightened his jacket and headed to the door. "The Master needs victims to feed."

Vanessa stared at the closed door in front of her for an instant.

Claire wiggled within her arms and, from her mouth, came the softest gurgle.

She instantly held her tighter, placing her lips on top of her head. Yes, it was natural, for her and yet – it was all a charade.

She began to walk smoothly, lulling the child and pressing her cold body against her chest. Before she knew, she was humming.

Vanessa didn't know that song, but she was sure she'd heard somewhere and, somehow, the words had stuck on her brain. Perhaps her mother used to sing it to her to lull her to sleep.

" _I ask one kiss from your sweet lips, and that is all I crave."_

Ethan. That monster wasn't her Ethan.

The woman he loved wasn't Vanessa for she wasn't herself.

She'd fought those forces all her life and now she was one of them.

She'd lost her battle at the very end.

That wasn't the life she wanted, nor the happiness or the kind of peace she sought.

They were darkness, slaves of the evil. They were free from sorrows and pains, but they'd condemned the world to live them in their places. They'd let the evil forces to unleash on the earth, so now everything was covered in darkness, fear, and blood.

She couldn't live like that.

" _My breast is cold as the clay, my breath is earthly strong._ "

Vanessa walked toward the center of the room and only then she realized she hated it: all that white, those light colors – that wasn't her. They weren't pure as the wanted to believe.

She hated that place and hated herself for letting this happen. She hated that Ethan who loved to kill and serve the Master of evil that was hers too.

She hated her daughter, that false child that drew breath only because of her and her awful deeds.

She had been the weak one.

Vanessa's hands trailed soothing circles on that soft skin as she rocked the child. Her lips pecking her light, raven baby-hair.

She hated it, she hated it all. She wanted to kill that dream – that nightmare.

Yes, she wanted to end it.

" _And if you kiss my cold, clay lips, your days will not be long."_ Her fingers reached her fragile neck.  
She encircled her small throat with her thumb and forefinger until they touched, then she squeezed.

She heard a snap and the weight in her arms growing as Claire's head fell backward.

She didn't dare to look down.

Between her arms, she could feel nothing but hard pieces of wood.

Vanessa let go, stepping above the pile of discarded sticks that had fallen with a silent thud.

She'd killed a man, it hadn't been difficult to kill a puppet.

She would have killed that Ethan too, if only she could. Even if he was a shadow of the real one, she loved him nonetheless.

Vanessa couldn't kill him, but she could end that – she could kill one more person, dirty her hands one more time.. with her own blood.

She walked to the window, watching as the full, silver moon worked its way through the clouds.  
She opened it and, climbing up the cushions on the bay window, she stepped on the ledge.

The air was cold and London laid beneath her feet, asleep. The city she'd hated now turned into the chaos of burning houses, constant laments and agony.

That had all been a trick, a sick lie she'd fallen for.

She'd condemned them so she could have peace. But her life was nothing but a façade. She'd failed everyone, herself too.

She had never wanted a fake daughter and she had never wanted a fake Ethan. Vanessa wanted hers. She wanted her old life, her own true one – not that depraved illusion.

" _When we will meet again, sweetheart? When we will meet again?_ " She sang, whispering.

Vanessa blinked away the tears that had gathered on her lashed. She hadn't cried in years. They fell down, deep, down into the streets.

She closed her eyes, imagining her body hovering in the wind, light as a feather.  
Better the oblivion, she taught, better a world when she was damned than one in peace that it wasn't her own.  
Better waiting for her Ethan in the afterlife than to have the empty shell of him now.

One last breath on this earthly life, and then, she jumped.

 _When the autumn leaves that fall from the trees, are green and spring up again._


End file.
